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The Ass and the Masters

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1 min read

A gardener’s ass complain’d to Destiny Of being made to rise before the dawn. “The cocks their matins have not sung,” said he, “Ere I am up and gone. And all for what? To market herbs, it seems. Fine cause, indeed, to interrupt my dreams!” Fate, moved by such a prayer, Sent him a currier’s […]

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